Section 8 V2
by BlackBox Inc
Summary: Ashley Williams teams up with a retired N7 to investigate why a team of N7s have gone missing. She soon comes to find out that she has gotten more than she bargained for. Remake.
1. Chapter 1

**WARNING!  
><strong>This story may include material not suited for all audiences. Viewer discretion is advised.

**Blackbox Incorporated Presents…**

**A ReppinOrphanTears24 Production…**

**Mass Effect and its entirety belong to Bioware and EA…**

**SECTION EIGHT V2**

**PROLOGUE**

The French tried to build a canal in Panama before the Americans. At the height of their effort 500 workers were dying every week from malaria and yellow fever. They couldn't come up with cemetery space fast enough. Not to mention the morale problem all those crosses would have made.

So they bought shiploads of vinegar. In each barrel they put one body. And then they sold them as medical cadavers all over Europe. And for a while that was their greatest profit.

See this place always had a special way of dealing with both profit… and death.

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Panama Canal, South America  
>Systems Alliance Territory<br>Earth, Sol System, Local Cluster  
>November 1<strong>**st**** 2184 (Galactic Standard Calendar)  
>2300 hours Earth Time<strong>

It was the height of hurricane season. Winds were gusting up to around a hundred miles an hour, the rain came in at you sideways, and no matter where you went; you could not escape the cold.

The sun had long set making the storm all that much more intolerable. It wasn't as if the sun made any difference behind the giant dark clouds of Hurricane Bush, but at least during the day you can see where you are going.

The night just made things worse. Now you would be wet and cold and have no idea what is five feet in front of you.

That was what the six N7 recruits felt in the open door Kodiak shuttle as it made its way through the brewing storm; cold, wet and exhausted.

For the past six months they have underwent the most rigorous training any Alliance military personnel could go through. Finally, this was to be their last test.

If they passed this, they could count themselves among the best operatives the Systems Alliance had to offer. They would be, N7s.

"As some of you may have heard, there is a hurricane forming tonight! Well **N7s**, don't pray on good weather. **N7s** do not wait for a bright, sun shiny day. Oh no. **N7s** are trained to operate in the worst possible conditions and take said conditions, and turn them against their enemy!"

Staff Sergeant David Anderson looked around at the six recruits before him.

Sitting to his immediate left was Corporal Jacqueline Nought, otherwise known as simply Jack, to her colleagues. Although quick to anger and slow to rational thought, Anderson knew that such an asset would smooth over well in the N7s. Her dossier had more black ink than a thank you letter from an ONI operative. What Anderson did manage to find out was not at all pleasant. When she was five, she was kidnapped by slavers from her home on Eden Prime. After a decade of unknowns, Jack mysteriously reappears and is now one of the most naturally talented biotics he'd ever seen. He made a note to apply to her strengths when she inevitable graduated from N7 training.

To his right was Specialist Vladimir Wreav, a behemoth of a man standing over six foot five inches. The native Russian was as imposing as he was deadly. His dossier red that he once beat four batarians to death with his bare hands in a bar fight on Omega. Just looking at him one could tell that it wasn't far from the truth. His personality matched his fighting technique down to the letter; impatient, menacing, and powerful. Unlike the other, Wreav seemed almost completely unfazed by the hurricane around him. Instead he sat there, eyes gazing out onto the jungle below him, his tight fitting shirt, with a thermal clip bandolier crossing diagonally over it, was dripping wet. Covering his head was a simple dark doo-rag which was equally as wet as his torso. Anderson suppressed a smile. The N7s were the best of the best and Wreav was no exception.

Then there was Corporal Zaeed Massani, an experienced Australian marine who had nothing but good praises from his superiors. However what he did have was a long list of disciplinary reports that ranged from sleeping with senior female staff to punch others in the mouth. His most notable feature, something that always caught someone's eye, was his grotesque scar that covered the entire right side of his face, a milky white dead eye and a partially missing ear. He had ran with a gang back in his hometown of Sydney and received the scar by being shot by his best friend Vido Santiago. Zaeed had nearly died but for some reason managed to survive, pull himself out of his shallow grave, hunt down Vido, and kill him. When he was caught and brought before a judge, Zaeed was offered a deal: join the Alliance military or serve the rest of his life in jail. Zaeed had no love for the Alliance but the simple fact of there being no women in prison gave clues to his decision. After fighting in the Verge for nearly five years, his application for N7 training had gone through and thus, here he was. His thin black hair was covered by a beret and he seemed to faring somewhat well in the harsh conditions around him, but not as well as Wreav.

Sergeant Jacob Taylor, who was as accurate with a shotgun as anyone else was with an assault rifle, was next. Jacob was the one man of the six recruits that Anderson felt could be a leader. Taylor had come from a somewhat renowned family. His father was one of the crew members who disappeared with SSV Hugo Gernsback, a colony ship that went missing a few decades prior. He had all the inner workings of a take charge person and was extremely loyal to those around him. All throughout his carreer, Taylor had made an excellent NCO. He was one of the few to survive Major Kyle's charge on Torfan and appeared to have no psychological scars from it. More recently however, he was involved in the liberation of Eden Prime from Geth control, earning himself not only several medals and accommodations, but an offer from ONI as well.

The rest of the recruits, in Anderson's eyes, were pukes who he would never let pass. To him, they didn't seem to have the right stuff.

The most notable were Privates Alenko and Jenkins, both who were in the shuttle with him. Alenko had barely survived through the conditions of Anderson's course and Jenkins was the son of some general high up in the Alliance.

Anderson wasn't exactly sure how Alenko got to be included in N7 training but according to his record he was a biotic. Healthy biotics were a rarity before the L3 implants came around and since his biggest drawback was a series of migraines, Alenko seemed like a perfect candidate. But to Anderson, he wasn't anything near perfect. His record informed Anderson that Alenko was off duty on Elysium when the fleet of raiders and slavers attacked the colony. Details are sketchy at best but whatever went down planetside during the siege, it got Alenko noticed by the Office of Naval Intelligence. Afterwards, his file was surprisingly well classified. In the end it wouldn't matter. Alenko would not pass. Anderson would make sure of it.

On the other hand, Corporal Jenkins was only here because his father had pulled some strings to get his allegedly gay son to become the man he wants. Anderson, while he respected General Jenkins as a man, had no time to play babysitter to the guy's kid. Anderson's standing orders with Jenkins was to make sure he became a soldier with getting him hurt. How Anderson was going to do that was unknown to him but so far the kid seemed somewhat capable if not entirely worthless.

Anderson nevertheless, continued his rant.

"You each have on rifle, one side arm, and one white phosphorous grenade. This is a live E and E, so please keep those weapons safetied so as to not shoot off your nonexistent dicks!"

The Kodiak shook in turbulence.

"The rally point is a bunker, two clicks away from the drop zone! You will split into teams of two. Each designated area has twenty reactive targets. First team to hit all twenty and reach the rally point, wins!" Anderson briefed the recruits, making it sound more like a game than a training exercise.

"If anything goes cache down there, you pop white and radio in. I will be at each area monitoring your progress! If I see anybody drag ass, I swear to god, you will swim the canal!"

The shuttle continued its way towards the drop zone, ready to deploy the six tired and cranky recruits who wanted nothing more to do than to grab a few hours of rack.

**SEVENTEEN HOURS LATER…**

Colonel Donald Udina's shuttle flew calmly over the Panamanian jungle keeping a path identical to the canal below.

Donald Udina was what one would expect from a colonel; enough prestige to demand respect but not enough to gain credit. His boney face visually displayed his ever increasing age with ever line and crease. Even his hair, that once was flowing and vibrant, was now slowly fading away. Almost like his career. All that remained was a black widows peek with streaks of grey deforming the dull black.

Every now and then, he would grab his binoculars and gaze out into the storm.

With a sigh he set the binoculars down and turned to the pilot, Flight Lieutenant Steven Cortez. On a personal Level, Udina respect Cortez. He put his duty first and made sure to always keep his bird in top shape. Something Udina was grateful for as they flew through the on-going hurricane.

"Where's the original pick up point?"

Cortez turned away from the controls.

"About two clicks up the valley. So this was an N7 training team? When were they due?"

Udina sighed once more, "They missed contact six hours ago."

"Well Colonel Udina, that doesn't really mean anything … in a storm like this… No, it wouldn't be any wonder if they were delayed," Cortez observed as he kept the Kodiak level while simultaneously gazing out the kodiak's side viewport, keeping a lookout for anything awry.

The shuttle continued through the now full on hurricane. While hurricanes were normal in this part of the world, a hurricane lasting for three days was uncommon. Well, not exactly uncommon. In the more 'civilized' area of Earth, the weather had calmed down some from the destructive effects of the 21st century. Still, in places such as South America that boasted more third world countries like Panama, people have not been able to properly upgrade their technology into modern day levels. As a result, most of these places were overpopulated, environmentally cursed, smug filled zones that had the highest rate of criminals anywhere else on the planet.

It just so happened that when the United States evolved into the North American Union with Canada, Mexico and most of the Caribbean countries, they had still owned the Panama Canal. When the Alliance had heard of this from the NAU, they immediately purchased up several hundred acres and set up Fort Mercy. However 99 percent of the land they purchased was covered in the trees of the resurfacing South American rainforest. It was here that the Alliance had trained their N7s in Jungle Warfare. It was spilt into twelve zones ranging from Alpha to Lima.

Training Zone Bravo was one of these zones.

"I'm not seeing them. I'm coming back around," Cortez informed Udina as he banked the shuttle towards port but at the last second leveled out.

"Uh… wait a minute… I'm seeing something on the ground. I'm coming over towards your side."

Sure enough, Udina could make out a figure in the jungle below. The figure was running through an opening in the tree line and was barely visible from Udina's altitude. Still, Udina could tell that something wasn't right.

"I'm seeing one… No wait, two? I think he's carrying some one? Is he hurt?" exclaimed Cortez.

Sure enough, Udina could make out a form lying across the man's shoulders.

He wasted no time.

"Alright, let's get down there," Udina ordered.

However he was interrupted by the sounds of gunfire.

"What is that?"

The man on the ground, fired from the hip, aiming at a currently unknown target.

"Is that live fire?"

Another man, wearing nothing on his torso except for a thermal clip bandolier and a do-rag, charged from the bush and fired back at the man carrying his wounded comrade.

The man carrying his friend returned fire, nailing the other in his shirtless body. Udina watched in horror as the shirtless man fall in a cloud of blood.

"Jesus Christ, they're shooting at each other; get us down there!"

The surviving man turned and began running.

Through the trees and rain, Udina could make out the growing cloud of white phosphorus.

"There, there!" he reported to the pilot who made a direct route towards the smoke.

The shuttle made its decent into the green jungle with the hurricane still blowing overhead.

_**Author's Note:  
><strong>__Since I'm in a state of writers block on ME Infection, I decided to go ahead with my promise to rewrite Section 8._

_To those just joining the fun and have not read my original piece, welcome! This fic is based off a movie I watched and was inspired by. Almost as soon as I finished watching the movie I hopped onto my computer and started to write. It was that good. So please, leave me your thoughts and if you spot anything out of place give me a holler._

_To others who are rejoining us for Volume Two, I'm sure some are noticing an increase in detail and a replacing of characters. Several issues factored into this but the main one is my overall increasing writing ability. I'm not trying to be egotistical, I'm just observing the fact that I'm better than I used to be._


	2. Chapter 2

Quick note to all those who are unfamiliar with my original story. This does not in any way shape or form follow cannon. It is based off of a movie I watched starring Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta. I thought it fit the ME universe enough that I morphed the cannon a little in order to write this. If you wish to read the original, it is in my bio.

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Panama, South America  
>Systems Alliance Territory<br>Earth, Sol System, Local Cluster  
>N7 Training Facility Fort Mercy<br>November 2****nd**** 2184 (Galactic Standard Calendar  
>1635 hours Earth Time<strong>

Udina watched through the viewing glass as the Alliance surgeons operated on the wound recruit who happened to be PFC Richard Jenkins. Udina knew these men were the best medical professionals the Alliance had. After all, he had served with the Chief Medical officer, Dr. Jack Harper, during the batarian aggression campaigns throughout the 2170's.

_At least we managed to save two of them…_

He walked, with the aid of a cane thanks to some lucky batarian sniper, through the hallways of Fort Mercy's main complex, nodding to the personnel as he passes them. Smugly he observed as they each stop whatever they're doing to salute him.

_As it should be_, he thought to himself. Udina had taken too much shit in his life and had passed through too much red tape to not be shown the respect he deserved.

_I lose my leg for the Alliance; you'd think they'd be the least bit grateful?_

Finally he arrived at the interrogation cell that held the only other known survivor, Sergeant Jacob Taylor. Inside he could already see his top interrogator, Second Lieutenant Ashley Williams, at work.

"You went out with four other recruits and your sergeant on an exercise last night. You came back a few men light," Ashley reminded the recruit as she sat at the table that the Corporal was chained to. The recruit hadn't moved since the MPs had brought him there.

"Four, to be precise," she said holding up the exact amount of fingers

She leaned in close, "Where are they?"

The recruit remained silent. Instead he motioned with his head towards a pen and a pad of paper sitting on the table. Ashley slid it over to him and watched as he etched a few words on it. Once done he slid it back to her.

She read the message and scoffed.

"In your dreams pal."

She ripped of the sheet from the pad, crumpled it up, stood and exited the room, running into her superior who watched the whole process go down.

"Lieutenant, tell me you have something," Udina's tone was near pleading.

"Sorry sir. The guy's a mute."

"Williams, if you don't make some progress with this guy soon, people from Arcturus are going to be crawling all over this place like ants."

Udina looked down at the sheet of loose leaf paper in Ashley's hand.

"What did he write?"

Ashley uncurled the paper and read it off, "I want to talk to an N7, someone off post, I don't trust anyone else."

Udina sighed, "Let me see it."

Ashley relinquished the paper and handed it over to the colonel.

Udina stared at the paper with inquisitive eyes. He was unimpressed with most of it until he saw something scribbled at the bottom of the page.

It was a circle with an eight drawn in the center.

"It's a stall tactic sir, nothing else."

For what seemed like the hundredth time in over twelve hours, Udina sighed and turned towards the one way mirror that, from his angle, was the window into the interrogation room.

"Give him what he wants. I know somebody who's perfect."

Ashley was taken aback.

"Sir, I am confident I can handle this."

"I'm not," Udina said bluntly as he turned and walked away from the shocked lieutenant.

**Panama City, Panama  
>Earth, Sol System, Local Cluster<br>Hotel Serenity, Room 44, Third Story  
>November 2<strong>**nd**** 2184 (Galactic Standard Calendar)  
>1637 hours Earth Time<strong>

The apartment was not something you could expect from neither a SpecTre agent nor a former N7 marine. It was ratty, run down, and almost had a feeling that the walls were caked with dirt.

In fact, the shower that held the apartment's owner was rusting and old and only a thin cloudy curtain shielded the occupant from prying eyes.

The occupant was in the middle of singing Walk the Line by Johnny Cash when the sound of his personal comm. ringing entered the mix.

A hand reached out of the shower, bypassing the comm. resting on the nearby shelf and gripping a half empty liter of whiskey.

The occupant opened the curtain fully and took a deep swing from his drink. The warm liquid burned down his throat as he hummed the final versus of the song. His throat now removed of the alcoholic beverage, he continues to sing. Grabbing a towel he exits the sad excuse for a shower and turns the water off.

The man looks at his reflection in the mirror, turning his head from side to side, silently deliberating whether he should shave or not. He is a rather handsome man with a muscular body of that of a track star instead of a body builder. His face is covered with a dark stubble that matches his salt and pepper haircut.

As he finishes the song, he drifts his focus to the comm. The communication device ends it's incessant ringing, giving up trying to alert the man to its presence.

The lightly clothed man chuckles and picks it up, counting down with his fingers from five.

Almost as soon as he dropped his last finger the comm. began to ring once again.

"Hello, this is Shepard speaking, I can't come to the phone right now but if you leave-"

"_Shepard_!" yelled the other person on the line, "_knock it off. Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you all day!"_

"Well hello to you too Councilor Tevos, how are you? Me? I'm just fucking peachy."

_"You didn't answer my question."_

Shepard stepped out onto his personal balcony that overlooked the street below. Already people have begun to gather for the festivities that would occur later that night. It seems the constant down pour would not deter the locals from having a good time.

"Well, there's a hurricane blowing down here and everything is shut down."

The caller doesn't seem to buy it, "_do you really think I'm going to believe that a hurricane is cutting off all communications from your area_?"

"I guess that means you've never been to this part of Earth," Shepard replied coolly.

Down below a few girls call up to him.

"Johnny! Johnny, come on, we're going to the parade!" of them yelled, "I got you that girl's name, its Gabriella!"

"Yeah! Yeah, we'll samba! I want to meet all your friends"

"Are you coming?"

"Yeah, I'll be there later!"

"You better, or I'll come and get you!"

The girls depart. Shepard watches them leave with near predatory eyes. His objective of not having an empty bed tonight was drawing to an end.

_"Shepard!"_

Shepard turns his attention back to the phone call.

"What?"

_"I said; are you drinking again_?" Tevos annoyingly repeated her question.

"No, no nothing like that," he responds taking another swig of his alcoholic beverage.

_"Anytime a red sand dealer admits he is bribed by an agent, we take him off the assignment while we run a check, it's nothing personal."_

Shepard nearly laughs.

"A drug lord that I help bust says that he paid me off, you guys believe him and then say it's nothing personal, fuck you," Shepard response, the irritation in his voice as clear as day.

_"Hey, hey relax; I'm sure you'll come up clean. You'll be back on the job in a week."_

Shepard scoffs, "yeah while everyone is giving me sideways glances wondering if I really am dirty. Look, I'm a SpecTre in red sand country. All we have down here is trust. After what you guys did do you ever expect me-"

The sound of another incoming call echoes in Shepard's ear.

"Hang on I got another call."

_"You're not thinking of-"_

Shepard interrupts the caller by switching the line. Truthfully, he is glad not to have to talk to Tevos anymore. With his record as an N7 and as a SpecTre, he would think he would have some pull with the council. But no. It seems that as quickly as the council was to get him to hunt down Saren, they are just as quick to try and get him fired.

Well, fired wouldn't be the right word. More like… replaced.

Shepard would be the first to admit that he shouldn't be a SpecTre. He was a renegade compared to most other agents since he basically didn't give a flying fuck what the Council thought or wanted him to do. He even punched a councilor for quote 'being a dick.' It was pretty obvious who was on the receiving end when Councilor Sparatus, the turian representative to the council, showed up the next day with his eye a shade darker than the rest of his face.

"Hello, this is Shepard speaking."

_"Shepard… Its Udina… We need you to come to Fort Mercy right away."_

The sheer look of surprise and confusion was clear as day on Shepard's face.

"What for?"

_"There's been an incident… you're the only one I know who can help."_

Not for the first time, Shepard wondered what this galaxy would be like if he just said no to every one who asked for his help.

But being the guys that he is, he quickly got dressed and head over to the place that trained him how to kill someone with the flick of the wrist.

_Fucking Fort Mercy… I wonder if the food has gotten any better._

Author's Note  
>Okay, so no reviews for the first chapter. I'm going to assume that most of you are just testing me to see whether or not I really am serious about this story. Otherwise, this new version might just get shelved. I don't know.<br>So let me know your thoughts so far and tune in next time for chapter three.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: The next chapter of ME Infection is about halfway done. So in the mean, I give you this. 

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Panama, South America  
>Systems Alliance Territory<br>Earth, Sol System, Local Cluster  
>N7 Training Facility Fort Mercy<br>November 2****nd**** 2184 (Galactic Standard Calendar)  
>1655 hours, Earth Time<strong>

If one wanted to, they could find humor in any situation. The foremost being the fact that a base dedicated to pushing recruits to their very limits in order to create the most lethal and professional operatives known to humanity, was called Fort Mercy is sure one sick joke; especially since mercy was one thing that no one seemed to be able to find there.

The main complex was situated atop of a rising hill, separating the entire base into four tiers. It wasn't that large or spacious but as command centers go; it served its purpose well.

On the second tier was the med-bay. It was run by Chief Medical Officer Doctor Jack Harper, who, along with Udina, was an alumni of the facility. On the third tier was the barracks where many if not all the base's recruits, MPs, and other personnel caught whatever rack time they could scrounge up.

On the final and bottommost level were the training grounds. Around ninety percent of the time, one could see the N7 recruits training there or doing PT. All in all, the actual base wasn't all the large if you didn't count the numerous training zones in the surrounding jungle.

But one person on the base in particular was in no mood to observe the humor and irony around her. She was seeing red, ready to punch out the first unlucky sod that dared cross her path.

Needless to say, Ashley was furious.

She had spent her entire military career climbing the ranks attempting to rid herself of the black cloud that had hung over her family since the First Contact War.

So far she has done just that, albeit without difficulty.

After surviving the attack on Eden Prime and the subsequent battle to liberate the colony from Geth control, Ashley was inducted in the N7 program where she flourished under the training eye of Staff Sergeant Anderson.

The training was rigorous and difficult. But the proudest day of her life came when she received her N7 badge.

_Dad would be proud…_

And now here she was back in the same situation she had thought passed her by: a superior thought she wasn't good enough.

She had initially walked outside to cool her head in the rain and calm the hell down but when she spotted Colonel Udina she just couldn't help herself.

Her sister Abby always said she was impulsive.

"Sir?" Ashley called to her superior as she caught up to him, "this is completely unorthodox, this guy isn't even military."

A pair of headlights appeared at the entrance to the base. The driver flashed a badge and the sentry passed him through.

Since Panama was one of many nations on earth who had yet to conform to modern technology, four wheeled vehicles were still the normal means of transportation. Sure, there were air-cars flying and buzzing about, but those mostly belonged to the Panamanian government. The rest of the populace just had to make due with whatever leftovers they got from the richer countries around the world/

"He was military," Udina confirmed, walking in stride next to his lieutenant, "I hadn't seen him in over ten years until I saw him the other night in the parking lot. Trust me… he's military."

The car drew closer before finding a parking spot and coming to a stop.

Udina handed her a holopad with the man in question's record, "He trained on Titan and then down here with me, so he knows the territory."

The two continued to walk along the side of the main complex underneath the porch that shielded them from the rain. Except for the drops of water the came in sideways. They passed on to pelt the Colonel and lieutenant unmolested.

"Before he left the service I've never seen a man more charismatic. They would say that John Shepard could get into your head faster than you can tie your shoes."

Ashley was naturally skeptical, "Oh yeah, why'd he leave the military?"

"Let's just say he got a better offer," Udina said with a chuckle.

Ashley decided to play one last card.

"Sir, if he's not military than it is not official."

Visibly getting annoyed from being questioned by a subordinate, Udina quickly turned to address her, "Well then Lieutenant Williams, it's unofficial."

Ashley watched as Shepard exited his truck. As he stopped to let a Humvee pass by, Ashley saw Shepard, not too subtly, scratch his baby maker.

She scoffed, "doesn't get more unofficial than that."

Shepard ran as steady as he could, ignoring the free shower he was receiving from mother nature.

"Hey Donnell," Shepard said greeting Udina, "How's it going?"

"I'm pretty much fucked, you?"

"Wet."

Shepard looked down to see a familiar cane.

"How's the knee?"

Udina shrugged him off as they began walking towards the complex entrance, "They were never going to make me a general anyway."

"Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke. So what am I doing here?"

"I was curious about that myself sir," Ashley said entering the conversation, "Sir, my name is Second Lieutenant Ashley Williams and I am the provost martial here."

Shepard crossed his arms over his chest, "Williams do I look like a sir to you?"

"Not particularly sir," Ashley said honestly.

Udina cleared his throat to silence Ashley before turning to Shepard, "Lieutenant Williams is the closest thing we have to an in-house investigator here."

Shepard smirked, "And here you are going out of house. Now, how's that make you feel Ash?"

"Hostile and uncooperative, sir," Ashley said ignoring the fact that a man she had just met used a nickname she reserved to close friends and family.

"Fantastic," Shepard said unenthusiastically. Ashley watched, disgusted, as Shepard retrieved a small flask from his coat pocket and take a swig from it.

"Before this hurricane hit we called in all N7 teams but one: A six man team and their black hat in the bush," Udina began, "We're missing three as well as the sergeant."

Shepard stopped dead in his tracks.

"Anderson? Don't tell me it was Anderson!"

Ashley could see that Shepard was visibly upset, "You know Staff Sergeant Anderson, sir?"

"He was our black hat…"

Ashley looked over at Udina who slightly nodded his head in confirmation. She turned back to Shepard, "That must have been quite an honor, sir."

"That's one way to put it," Shepard said sarcastically.

Ashley found herself again insulted by Shepard's lack of civility towards the military.

"Staff Sergeant Anderson is a professional. He is the face of the modern N7."

"I'm not sure you've noticed," he said walking pass her, "I'm not an N7 anymore."

Udina continued his brief, "They were due back at 1100 hours yesterday."

"So the problem is that three didn't come back?" Shepard inquired.

"No," began Ashley, "The problem is that one of them is dead, one is riddled with holes, and one won't talk. Now the one that won't talk exchanged live fire with the dead one that the Colonel saw when he-"

"And I'm assuming that's what made him the dead one," Shepard said rather rudely as he returned his focus to Udina.

"Specialist Vladimir Wreav… Killed right in front of me…" Udina said telling the shortened version.

"Listen Don," Shepard began holding up his hand to pause his former comrade-in-arms, "if command finds out your using non-military personnel in this, especially me with my colorful background, they'll tear you a new asshole."

"That is why your involvement will remain a secret and anything you uncover will be credited to Williams," Udina stated as if he planned this speech before hand.

"Then let her do it."

"Uh, Sir, that's not a bad idea."

Udina grabbed Shepard by the arm and began to lead him away, "Lieutenant will you excuse us for a moment?" he asked rhetorically. Ashley saluted and walked several meters away, out of hearing range, waiting until she was called upon again.

"With all due respect to Williams, this is way out her league," Udina said to Shepard in a hushed voice, "This kid we have in interrogation requested an N7, someone he never met. That's you."

"Jesus Don, the guy could've requested a Tantalus Drive Core, doesn't mean you give it to him."

Shepard grew suspicious as he tried to figure out the situation himself.

"I don't get this… any spooks involved here? ONI? Anything like that?"

"Not exactly," Udina mumbled.

"What's that supposed to mean."

"There were a group of guys down here and they…"

"They what? Common Don, spill it."

Shepard could tell that his old friend was almost afraid to tell him what was going on. Almost as if he were to simply utter a word he would be killed on the spot.

Ashley watched with barely contained patience as the Colonel and Shepard discussed something she could not hear.

Whatever Colonel Udina said, Shepard agreed to be involved on the spot.

The two men joined up with Ashley and entered the entrance hall of Fort Mercy's main complex building. Udina had instructed Williams to assist Shepard in anyway necessary.

When Udina split off to find some way to salvage the situation and give Shepard the necessary access he'd need in order to carry the authority and investigator would need, Ashley found herself alone with Shepard walking towards her office.

"Permission to speak freely sir?"

"Williams I swear to god, if you call me 'sir' one more time I'm going to scream," Shepard groaned.

Just before Shepard could open the door that led to her office, Ashley slid in front of him, blocking his path.

"I know who you are," Ashley said accusingly, "You're a SpecTre being charged with bribery."

While Shepard and Udina were discussing whatever managed to convince Shepard to become involved, Ashley managed to review the SpecTre's record.

The Savior of Elysium, the Butcher of Torfan, the Survivor of Akuze, and finally, and most famously, the Hero of the Citadel.

Each one of those titles was a testament to the man standing before her. Despite herself, Ashley couldn't help believe that most of his fame with just hot air. The guy practically screamed out that he was a Mary Sue… or Gary Sue, whatever.

If anyone asked why she thought this, her reasons would point at the list of KIAs that served under him.

Marcus Toombs, killed on Akuze with another forty nine other marines. Jeff "Joker" Moreau, Killed during Sovereign's attack on the citadel. James Vega and Urdnot Wrex, both killed on Virmire. Garrus Vakarian, killed on the Citadel. Tali Zorah nar Rayya, killed on Illos. Liara T'Soni was the only survivor but according to the records Ashley had, the asari seemed to drop off the grid. All in all, Shepard had a very impressive resume but death seemed to follow everywhere he went.

And now here he was, the most famous human alive, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He didn't even have the balls to realize he'd be caught.

"Suspicion of bribery," Shepard corrected, "it's all in the wording really."

"Well wording aside, I'm not comfortable having you involved in this case."

"Okay three things. First, you don't have a choice, second I've never taken a bribe in my life, and third… I'm still a little drunk from earlier today so if I skip over the witty banter and move straight onto coming on to you… I hope you won't take offense."

True she didn't have a choice. It comes with the territory of being in the military.

Ashley was initially shocked by Shepard forthcoming with fact number three but was more astounded with the way he held himself over fact number two.

He had such… conviction in his words. Either he truly believed he was innocent, or he actually was. That or he was just a really good liar.

Ashley ignored Shepard's gaze and proceeded into her office. She grabbed a data pad from her desk and handed it to Shepard.

"Dog tags identify them as Sergeant Jacob Taylor and Private First Class Richard Jenkins."

"Jenkins?" Shepard nearly laughed, "What kind of generic, red shirt name is that?"

Ashley stifled a snicker of her own, "Uh…maybe it has something to do with General Francis Jenkins… of the joint Chiefs."

"Yeah I forgot to thank Udina for mentioning that on the phone," Shepard shrugged.

"Jenkins Jr. will be unconscious for another half hour. The soldier we'll be talking to is Taylor."

"Is he in the interrogation room?"

"Yes, sir."

"Move him."

"Why?"

"Because interrogation rooms tend to suspiciously look like interrogation rooms which make people uncomfortable," Shepard stated simply, "… Is he cute?"

"Excuse me?" Ashley was judging whether this guy was serious or not.

"Taylor, is he cute?"

"Sir, if you're not going to take this seriously-" Ashley began annoyed but was quickly silenced by Shepard.

"Is he handsome? Is he self-assured? Does he carry himself a certain way? Does he look you in the eyes when you talk to him or down at the ground? Does he have good bones that suggest good breeding? Does he slouch or sit up? These are important questions that reveal a great deal about a man's character. Now can you get over yourself for two and a half seconds and tell me… is he cute?"

Ashley was silent for a moment, "… yes he's cute."

"Thank you," Shepard said as he handed her back the data pad and made his way for the door, "I'll let you know how it turns out."

"Agent Shepard!" Ashley all but hollered, "If this goes to trial someone needs to testify about what happened in the interrogation. With your 'colorful' background you'd be just about the most impeachable witness in history. Now I may be stuck with you, but you are definitely stuck with me."

Ashley watched as Shepard rubbed the back of his neck, almost as he was deciding if he should let her come or not. This only began to infuriate Ashley more because it made it assume as if he actually had a choice.

"Okay…"

Shepard walked over to a nearby pot of coffee and poured himself a cup. To his relief it was quite fresh.

"At some point I want you to go bad cop on him. The signal will be something like rubbing my nose."

"Not scratching your balls?"

"Look for both. Are there any donuts around here?"

Not for the last time, Ashley felt her face find her palm.

_Tonight is going to a long night… Lord, give me strength…_

_**Author's Note  
>Not much to say really. Thanks you for the reviews so far they mean a lot. Oh, I may have or may have not mentioned that I plan to do a sequel to this. Well I'm mentioning it now. The reason I bring it up is because that it is in pre-production as I write this. The general story is down, I know what I want to do but beyond that nadda. Anywho, hope you've enjoyed this segment and stayed tuned for the next one!<strong>_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**CHAPTER 4**

**Panama, South America  
>Systems Alliance Territory<br>Earth, Sol System, Local Cluster  
>N7 Training Facility Fort Mercy<br>November 2nd 2184 (Galactic Standard Calendar)  
>1700 hours, Earth Time<strong>

"I questioned him for two hours. He never made a sound."

Ashley paused, waiting for Shepard to retrieve a donut from the vending machine across from the mess hall where the MPs have previously moved Sergeant Taylor.

Shepard scoffed, "you try poking him with a stick?"

Ashley nearly chuckled, "sorry, no, I didn't learn sophisticated techniques like that."

The two stopped at the doors to the mess and looked in on Taylor. According to the MPs he hadn't asked where he was going nor did he make any sort of movements when he had sat down.

"I bet I can get him talking in under three minutes," Shepard said confidently as he looked over at Ashley with child-like eyes, "10 creds says I can do it. And that's without telling him I'm an N7."

Ashley stared into Shepard's baby blue eyes for a moment before setting her stopwatch, "go."

The two entered the mess simultaneously. Taylor hadn't even looked up to greet them.

"Sergeant Taylor, good evening. I'm John Shepard. I believe you have already met the vivacious Lieutenant Williams." Ashley responded with a unenthusiastic grin.

Shepard sat down across from Taylor who still hadn't taken his eyes off the table; as if the lines in the wood held all the answers.

"I understand that you had a rough time out there, and that you're not talking. I'm sure you just want to get some sleep and some food. Did they feed you yet?"

Taylor remained unresponsive.

Shepard stared at the young N7 for a moment before sliding his donut over to Taylor. The young sergeant simply continued to stare blankly, his gaze drifting ever so slightly towards the donut.

"Go on. You can still eat and not talk to someone, my parents did it for years," Shepard encouraged.

Shepard must have hit a soft spot because Taylor grabbed the donut with primal vigor and munched down on it like a lion eating a gazelle.

Shepard smiled, "You want another one? Ah, maybe later."

Shepard stood up from the table and leaned against the one behind him.

"Jake, I'm going to be straight up with you. I don't know why you did what you did out there or if it was in self-defense and frankly I don't care."

Ashley looked over at Shepard with inquisitive eyes.

"Thing is, I made an agreement with a friend; to talk to you until your transport showed up. So…"

Shepard sat back down in his chair and leaned back onto the back two legs, bracing himself on the table behind him. He watched as Taylor who continued to eat his donut.

"… You like Skyball?"

Taylor said nothing. He just continued to eat.

"Man, I tell you what. I could talk Skyball all day: points per game, assists… I got statistics in my brain. I don't know how I remember them, it's freaky."

Shepard leaned forward, "You want to talk about Skyball?"

Taylor, again, remained unresponsive.

"Come one Jake, we got to talk about something. We're going to be here another six hours. What do you like?"

Taylor's head rose to meet Shepard.

"Sir, I don't like Skyball," he said uttering his first words since arriving on base.

Shepard shot a look over to Ashley who sighed and shut off her timer.

"Why not?"

"I believe the game of Skyball to be too slow."

"Too slow? Too slow?" Shepard stuttered defensively, "I-It's a game of anticipation. That's the beauty."

Taylor shrugged, "well sir, I just don't like it. Sorry I don't have an adequate explanation."

"Well, that's alright. I'm not going to knee cap you or anything."

Taylor got to business, "sir, I requested a fellow N7."

Shepard set his coffee down and rolled up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo on his bicep.

It had the standard N7 painted on the forehead of a bare snarling skull with the words '_Non lasciare mai un uomo dietro'_ etched underneath it. Behind it were two crisscrossing rifles.

Ashley recognized the words were latin but unfortunately her translator worked only for her ear, not her eyes.

She decided to log that for later and ask Shepard some other time.

"Sir, I apologize," Taylor added upon seeing Shepard's brand, "I just… uh-"

"You just thought that I looked like a scumbag, I know. It turns a lot of people off."

Ashley suddenly, for some reason, took a good look at Shepard. Before she had seen a guy who was caught getting bribed and shrugged him off as a dirt bag. But now that he himself had called it out, she began to notice his actual features. Surprisingly she began to find herself more and more fascinated.

Ashley shook her head. Here she was eye fucking the man who was doing her job and better than her to add. The last thing she needed right now was for things to get complicated.

Shepard continued, "You know, I was here, about ten years ago, right under Staff Sergeant Anderson. Back then he had a wicked looking blade... he still got that?"

Taylor nodded, "hand carved, yes sir."

"The reason I remember is because he used me as his knife dummy. He ever do that to you guys?"

Taylor found himself smirking, "oh yeah."

Shepard saw the confusion in Ashley's face and quickly clarified.

"What Anderson used to say is that he could slice a man from stem to sternum… your stem being the tip of a guy's dic-"

"I got that," Ashley quickly interrupted.

"Anyway, when you were his knife dummy, he would ram this pipe into your balls all day."

Shepard laughed, "Man that was a _long_ day."

Shepard took another sip of his coffee.

"Oh, Jake, by the way, I promised I would ask where Anderson and your- other three teammates are and uh… can they be found."

Taylor lowered his head, "there's no need…"

Shepard's eyes suddenly had that predatory look in them.

"They're dead aren't they?"

Taylor simply nodded.

"You kill them?"

Taylor exchanged a glance with Shepard before resuming his staring contest with the table.

Shepard leaned back, sighed, and rubbed his nose.

It took Ashley around a second or two to pick up on it and rushed to Taylor's side, getting right in his face.

"Look, we have enough on you to deep-fry your ass!"

Taylor remained silent.

"Back to the silent treatment huh? Fine by me, I'm just going to have to haul your ass out of here! Let's see what a few MPs can get out of you once _they_ take the gloves off!"

Shepard stood up, waving his hands, his chair skidding across the floor.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up, time out!" Shepard said making the letter T with his hands.

"Look, Jake, this is what you call, good cop-bad cop."

Ashley looked up at Shepard with the expression of shock clear across her face.

"She shouts at you, I jump to your defense, you're grateful, this establishes a bond of trust. I ain't going to play games with you," Shepard said before turning towards his coffee and picking it up.

_That two timing bastard!_

"Let's say we take a break, ok? I'll get you another donut and then we'll see if you want to talk more."

Shepard turned from Taylor and headed out of the mess hall with Ashley hot on his heels. Once they exited the mess Shepard turned to Ashley.

"Deep-fry-your-ass?" Shepard said giggling like a school boy.

"You set me up!"

"You owe me ten credits by the way."

"You could have told me your plan."

"Come one, everyone knows good cop-bad cop. I was hoping that by admitting it I could-"

Shepard was interrupted by the sound of Colonel Udina approaching. The colonel didn't waste any time getting down to business.

"Do you think he did it?"

"No sir," answered Ashley. Udina's gaze flashed towards Shepard.

"Yes…" Shepard stated plainly.

"What about the rest of my people?"

Shepard shook his head. The message was clear.

Udina slumped up against the way and let out a breath of frustration and anxiety.

"Well, in five and a half hours this will be out of our hands. I'm going to have a lot to answer for. I would appreciate it if you could find me some answers," the colonel said with hunched shoulders as he turned and walked away.

Five minutes later, Shepard and Ashley found themselves in front of Taylor again.

"Why did you ask for an N7, sergeant?"

Taylor combed his pale hand through his dark slick hair, "I'm not telling you what happened."

"Alright," said Shepard as he slip a cup of joe towards Taylor, "tell us about the other guys. Tell us about the course. Tell us about Staff Sergeant Anderson. Is he still the same hard-ass?"

Taylor smirked, "you have no idea,"

**Panama, South America  
>Systems Alliance Territory<br>Earth, Sol System, Local Cluster  
>N7 Training Facility<br>Fort Mercy- Training Zone Foxtrot  
>August 9<strong>**th**** 2184 - November 1st 2184**

Staff Sergeant David Anderson patrolled in front of the twelve recruits before him. Behind him the sun was beginning to rise through a dark bank of grey clouds.

"I do not care that you are triple volunteers. I do not care that you think that you are hard. And I especially don't give a rat's ass what four star general's dick you sucked to get the privilege of standing before me today!

Anderson planted himself before all twelve.

"Those of you who are unworthy, will not remain. Is that understood? Give me a Hoorah Sergeant."

"Hoorah Sergeant!" responded all twelve simultaneously.

"Those that I find lacking will quit. Those of you who refuse to quit, will have a training accident. This base suffers three training accidents a year; unfortunate accidents that I will not hesitate to repeat, if you cross me. Is that understood? Can I get a Hoorah sergeant?"

"Hoorah Sergeant!"

Anderson stepped up to a dark skinned recruit with a short buzz down haircut. He, like all the recruits around him, wore his jungle camo uniform.

"And what is your name dick weed?"

"Sergeant, Alenko, sergeant."

"Alenko, surrender your sidearm for inspection," Anderson said with his hand out.

Alenko quickly retrieved his pistol and handed it to Anderson.

Just before the pistol touched Anderson's grip, Anderson pulled his hand away.

"What the fuck are you doing? Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"Sergeant you ordered me to relinquish-"

"Are you talking? Did you speak to me? Who the fuck told you to speak?"

Alenko placed his sidearm back in the holster.

"An N7 never relinquishes his weapon! If John-motherfucking-Grissom rises from his holy grave and asks you to surrender your weapon, you do not surrender your weapon! Can I get a Hoorah sergeant?"

The other eleven recruits sounded off.

"Now son, some people in this 'verse will kill you for no reason other than something passing through their minds. I come from Biloxi, Mississippi where vanilla motherfuckers like that," he said pointing to a nearby recruit with a pale complexion, "would hang black folks from trees on whim! Now does that sound like a place where you would want to grow up?"

"Sergeant, no, sergeant!"

Anderson grabbed Alenko by the neck, "are you implying something negative about the great state of Mississippi?"

"_Right from the beginning Anderson had a chip on his shoulder for this guy named Alenko_," Taylor narrated, "_By the time we did Green Hell it was getting ridiculous_."

Green Hell, an exercise that was located in Zone Foxtrot, was a 20 day march in the Darien and 40 clicks a day with an eighty pound pack on your back. The course was called 'Jungle Leader' and was designed to teach recruits how to think when they're exhausted.

Ask any veteran of Jungle Leader and they'd say the same thing: "Anderson knew just how to make you exhausted."

At nights, the recruits would practice escape and evasion maneuvers with live rounds snapping by their heads. As well as traversing swamps that was infested with bugs and snakes. On some nights the trainers would do mock POW stuff and deny the recruits any comfort whatsoever, especially sleep.

"_We humped over the Cordillera three times; all the way to the Columbian border and back_," Taylor continued to narrate, "_Some of that stuff is steep as hell and the rain wouldn't let up for days at a time_. _Our packs would get heavy in the rain_. _I mean no one hated anything more than we hated those damn packs_."

Taylor began to remember a certain rock face that the recruits had to climb up with their packs fastened to their backs.

"_There was this one escarpment, it couldn't have been more than 50 feet high, but god damn it was slippery_."

Anderson stood on the very edge of the rock face, staring down at Alenko who, although he reached the top, could not get himself fully over.

"Mr. Alenko, can you tell me the muzzle velocity of an M8 Avenger?"

"Y-yeah! 1100, sergeant!" Alenko managed to gasp out as he struggled to climb.

"Eleven hundred what?"

"…Meters p-per s-s-second sergeant!"

"Take 40 percent of that and times it by the exact number of animals Moses took on the ark."

All that was heard was the constant down pour of the rain and Alenko's grunting as he continued to struggle.

"Come on… Come on Mr. Alenko. Are you tired? Too tired to think?"

Finally one of the recruits, Jack, had enough, "Zero you fuck, Moses wasn't on the ark."

Anderson got down on one knee and got eye level with Alenko.

"Have you lost it?"

"N-No sergeant!"

"Then tell me this; what is your weapon?"

The Staff Sergeant was answered by the rain and more grunting.

"Your weapon, Alenko. What is your weapon? What keeps you alive and makes the other guy dead?"

Again, the same response.

"It's your brain Mr. Alenko; your noggin, your smarts, your grey matter, your poise under fire. It's your wits, when all about you are losing theirs."

"I think you came to this party unarmed Mr. Alenko… Take off your pack."

Alenko began to take his pack off. Anderson outreached his hand.

"Here I'll help you."

Slowly but surely, Alenko took off his pack and handed it to Anderson with throbbing arms.

Anderson proceeded to take said pack, and toss it to the bottom of the cliff.

"You cannot complete this course without you pack Mr. Alenko… I suggest you go get it. Even if it takes forty days and forty nights."

"_That business bothered a lot of the guys," _Taylor said as he continued to narrate_, "even Wreav who was this Russian guy that made you feel uncomfortable to sleep around_."

"_That's what we were coming back from yesterday afternoon. We'd figured we get a shower and a hot meal. I mean we were the walking dead. We were about as ragged out as a man could get_."

Anderson took a look at the twelve recruits that had just jumped off the transport that brought them back to Fort Mercy from Training Zone Foxtrot. The rain from earlier that day had not slowed up but instead intensified.

"What we have here, is an opportunity. A unique opportunity for a spectacular training event. Wrex, Jack, Massani, Taylor, Jenkins, drop your packs, weapons only. Muster at the east LZ in two minutes."

Alenko scoffed, "Jesus Christ…"

"What was that Mr. Alenko?"

Alenko hung his head.

"Oh, you think a little rain is inappropriate for combat. You think the game should be called on account of weather? Or were you concerned for their safety?"

"Sergeant, I…" Alenko tried to say before he was cut off as Anderson's eyes went wide. It was a non-verbal warning for Alenko to keep his mouth shut.

"No, Staff Sergeant."

"Good! Then you can join them!"

With that, Anderson fixed the black beret on top of his head and walked away.

**Panama, South America  
>Systems Alliance Territory<br>Earth, Sol System, Local Cluster  
>N7 Training Facility Fort Mercy<br>November 2nd 2184 (Galactic Standard Calendar)  
>1722 hours, Earth Time<strong>

Shepard had his hand to his chin as he listened intently to Taylor's story. Ashley set down the data pad she had been typing on as she took down word for word what Taylor had said.

"And those were the guys that were with you?" Shepard asked.

"Yeah, and I'm not saying anything more."

Shepard and Ashley got up to leave before Shepard suddenly turned around.

"Hey Jake, do you smoke?"

"Is this one of those interrogation tricks where you won't offer me a cigarette unless I talk?"

Shepard's face was blank, unreadable, a complete wall to his inner thoughts.

"No, I just forgot mine in my car. I was hoping you had some."

Taylor chuckled and retrieved a cigarette from the pack in his pocket.

"Ah, my brand. I guess it's my lucky day," Shepard said as he leaned in to allow Taylor to spark his cancer stick.

Shepard exhaled the thin grey smoke, "you know, you seem like a good guy Jake. You carried a wounded Jenkins to the pickup, defending both you and him. I just don't understand… What did you do to make Wreav want to kill you?"

Taylor was silent for a moment, "I'm not saying anything else."

Shepard took a final hit from his cigarette, nodded, and left Taylor to his thoughts.

An MP suddenly ran up to Shepard and Ashley.

"Sirs," he said with a salute that made Shepard scoff.

"What can we help you with Private?" asked Ashley.

"PFC Jenkins is awake."

With that said, Ashley and Shepard went to the nearest transport that would take them to the other side of the complex where the medical facility was located.

For Shepard this was business as usual and all he wanted was to get back to that ratty apartment he called home. But for Ashley, something wasn't sitting right. To her something felt off about this whole situation.

She wasn't sure what it was…

… but she was determined to find out.


End file.
